Snakebite
by Sapphirine
Summary: A failed murder attempt on Harry for Voldemort's forgiveness has landed Draco in Azkaban, along with Potter himself and Hermione- an innocent volunteer. Forced to work with Harry and Hermione, they attempt to break out. In a race to destroy the Horcruxes, the pursued trio must find the most ingenuous of hiding places before the battle and this time, there is no help to come.
1. Chapter 1

_**{First Harry Potter fanfic. And yeah (disclaimer), I'm not J. K. Rowling. Sadly.**_

_**Right, with that out of the way, this would be slotted time-wise somewhere around The Half-Blood Prince through the Deathly Hallows (Book 6 and 7, no spoilers, don't worry as the plot is different!). If you have time please read and review (flames are appreciated so I may improve), and hope you enjoy! Please don't flame pairings though.  
**_

_**NOTE: Plot gets a while to get to, but when I do get to it, it'll be good, I promise. Please don't let it discourage you from reading, so bear with me please. All this boring exposition stuff is necessary for the plot, much as I hate it.**_

_**And yes, the part with the Inferi class is based loosely off the Half-Blood Prince, but other than that I daresay it's pretty original.  
**_

_**Also, if anyone is willing to Beta read this story, I'd be extremely grateful. I want to improve this as much as possible. (I'm not sure if this is the way to ask, but if it isn't someone please kindly correct?)}**_

Draco jolted up in a cold sweat, breathing hard. The green and silver dormitory room of the Slytherin house glowed in the watery, wan light through the windows as he tried to calm himself down, checking hurriedly to make sure that the other Slytherin boys hadn't been awakened by him. Assured that all eyes were closed and would be for a good five to seven hours, he pushed the green silk hangings aside, creeping out of the room.

Hurrying down the cold, grey-green stone staircase into the Slytherin Common Room, he relaxed at the familiar glowing green walls and the ivory, bone-dry skulls sitting on top of the burning hearth. Silver lanterns filled with a mysterious, pulsing light hung from the ornate ceiling, giving the room a sort of unreal feeling. The waters of Black Lake whispered behind the greenish windows, ribbons of kelp rippling gracefully in the serene distance.

This was his way of comforting himself. It wasn't like it had any friends to turn to. His reputation was less than pretty, Draco Malfoy- nasty, snobby pure-blooded wizard-in-training of Slytherin, the which "not a dark wizard or witch had been turned out of [Slytherin]", who had a nasty father who was a Death Eater for You-Know-Who, the most feared Dark wizard for hundreds of years. Also a Death Eater, in replacement of his father, which commands respect, and hatred, from fear. Basically, a nasty guy. Someone you wanted to be hardly ten feet from. He wasn't exactly loved here. The feeling was mutual.

The real world didn't like him much either. On a jaunt to the Muggle world for Lord Voldemort, he had typed his father's name into a computer on Google to see if they were still in the shadows. Lucius came up fine, but when he put in Malfoy, his family name, the spell check asked if he had meant to spell "Malformed". Their secret movements were in the dark, all right, but he didn't exactly appreciate being told by a computer that his name was "Malformed". The wretched machine didn't live to see through another Google search.

Most wizards from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Gryffindor would deem the place as "creepy" and definitely wouldn't go there for comfort, but Draco found the place familiar and welcoming. It sounded strange and absurd, even pathetic that a pure-blooded wizard who worked for _Lord Voldemort _would get scared by a petty little dream and find comfort in dry walls, the color green, a rearing serpent crest, leather couches, and bleached, dead animal heads, but it wasn't like people hadn't exactly been warm, fuzzy, and accepting to him in his life. So, to loving a room it was.

Voldemort. That was his problem. He had once admired Voldemort, his cunning, very Slytherin ambition, his passion, his unbelievably powerful magic prowess. His father was the Lord's trusted ally- a Death Eater. An _ally, __not_ a minion, of any sort. Slytherins were _never _minions.

So, naturally, Voldemort's one unsuccessful murder almost a decade ago, the one of the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter, made the latter the prime bounty of the Death Eaters' hunt. Basically, kill Potter, and Voldemort loves you like a father. Okay, not really. But you get the point.

It didn't help that Draco also despised the Gryffindor Seeker with a fiery, violent passion. If only he could _Avada Kedavra _him, his life would be much sweeter and enjoyable. Too bad that landed you in Azkaban with the dementors. Even Death Eaters didn't enjoy a lifetime pass to the famed- not in a good way- wizard prison.

But lately, Voldemort had been treating him like exactly what he _was not, is not, and will never be- _an underdog. A part of the crowd. A minion, a slave, someone that could be thrown off to the side like a useless piece of crap with the snap of his fingers.

Slytherin wizards did not appreciate someone stamping out their ambition.

It was time to cut the hawser. Draco Malfoy refused to work for Voldemort any longer. Not with him treating him like some Muggle street trash.

_Alright, then. _he had said coolly. _Then you are truly part of the crowd. And you will suffer- die, with the rest of the them. You've picked the wrong side to throw your lot in with, Draco- and remember, once you're in my maze, you don't get out.  
_

_You can walk away, Draco. I won't try to stop you. But remember- I don't take betrayal light. I'll never truly be gone. It'll seem small at first, but I'm going to make you wish you were never born. I'm going to make your world fall apart right before your eyes, and I'll make you watch.  
_

So that was that.

Partly.

He still had the black Dark Mark on his wrist, which meant technically he was still a Death Eater, so all the good guys still wanted to catch him and stick him in Azkaban permanently, no chance of parole. Not that parole existed in Azkaban.

If the good guys on his tail wasn't enough, now Voldemort had his minions hounding him. Dementors paid him daily visits. Death Eaters watched from shadowy corners. Boggarts terrorized him faster than he could _Riddikulus _them. Voldemort himself haunted his dreams, and he knew it was only a matter of time before someone of Hogwarts found out and threw him in Azkaban, making him easy prey for dementors, or Voldemort himself killed him. Not a merciful _Avada Kedavra, _but probably a Cruciatus curse first for a good long time. And who knows what other torture spells the Dark Lord had up his sleeve? It gave him nervous breakdowns just to think about it.

Those constant nervous breakdowns cost him. He shredded his textbooks with his fingernails and teeth, snapped at everyone, was quiet in class, didn't change out of his creased black robes or brush his impossibly paler blonde hair, didn't have the heart to taunt Potter or Weasley, went into several-hour lapses staring into space with a stricken, wild look on his face, cast the _Salvio Hexia _and the _Protego _spells every twenty seconds. Or so he had been told.

He had been sent to Madam Pomfrey seventeen times in 24 hours. It must have been a Hogwarts record. The ignorant, pathetic healer- what did she know? Fussing about with herbs that he didn't even like to look at, much less eat, bringing in the insane, ridiculous Trelawney to shriek out like a buzzard her stupid death omens, staring into the night sky, mumbling to herself like a half-witted idiot.

Snape had began to suspect him too, glaring at him in Defense Against the Dark Arts class- watching him with those shrewd, glittering eyes darting around his hooked nose, his curtains of greasy hair flapping and rippling as he stared straight through him.

Draco Malfoy wasn't one to be easily scared, but Snape's piercing gaze terrified him from death and half back.

"If you don't snap out of your La-la land vacations, Mr. Malfoy," he had threatened once, whacking him hard across the back of his neck with a thick Dark Arts book when he had caught him frozen in one of his lapses, "I will personally take a page out of Mad-Eye's book, as radical as it is. I passionately despise white ferrets, Malfoy, and would not hesitate to smooth over my Transfiguration abilities on a natural _Mustelidae_, who's sitting right in front of me, dawdling in nothing. A terrible waste for a pure-blooded wizard, especially the son of, admittedly, powerful and talented Lucius Malfoy, no?"

Red-faced with shame, embarrassment, and anger, he had ducked his head down, shooting furious glances at Potter as he concealed a hidden gale of laughter. Ron had roared outright in mirth, actually dropping down to the ground, holding his stomach. Snape had thrown a sharp glance at him, and the weasel had crawled back into his seat and tried to compose himself.

"Weasley, may I remind you that weasels are a close relative of the ferret, so I would not laugh. Twenty points from Gryffindor and twenty from Slytherin." he had said coldly, and walked stiffly back to the front of the room.

At least Snape didn't appreciate students humiliating others during his class. That was _his_ personal job. Snape, even though he was his most respected and favorite teacher, was nearly as bad as Voldemort sometimes.

He had never been able to live it down. Weasley never hesitated to remind him about that unfortunate session, nudging him in hallways, doing theatrical performances in the main hall for all wizards and witches from all Houses, including Slytherin, to laugh at.

He had been tempted to jump off the top of the Astronomy tower that night and just end his torture once and for all.

Sometimes he even wondered if he was even the slightest bit sane. If he was a true Slytherin- cool, intelligent, determined, and always on top of the game.

He closed his eyes, thinking deeply, stiffening at every tick of the grandfather clock as if a Death Eater would spring out any moment and use an Unforgivable Curse on him. Much as he hated it, he had to go back.

Go back to Voldemort.

And slave like a stinking Hufflepuff to him.

He opened his eyes, a new fierce determination burning in them, reflecting the blazing fire in the hearth as he took out his wand, pointing it at the deserted back up the staircase to the serpent-decorated dormitory room, he slid back into bed, closing his eyes.

Tomorrow, at midnight, he was going to do what the Death Eaters, the dementors, and even Voldemort, the Dark Lord himself, had failed to do.

He was going to kill Harry Potter.

Surely Voldemort couldn't ignore something like that?

* * *

Draco sat, hunched over, alone by himself at the end of a long Slytherin table bench, eating quietly. Weasley has still at the melodramatic impressions of his humiliation, Potter laughing loudly, unashamedly, pounding the table with his fist. Even Granger had the barest hint of smile, despite her attempts to remain prim and proper and to tell Ron to _sit down, shut up and eat your breakfast, stay out of trouble._

Hermione Granger- typically quiet, intelligent, obedient, kind, and traditional. Sometimes Draco wondered why she wasn't put in Hufflepuff.

_She's different. _he mused quietly. _She's not like the other knight-in-shining-armor Gryffindors. I wonder if-_

Instantly, he was disgusted with himself.

_For goodness gracious sakes, she a _Gryffindor. _A crappy, proud, blindly-rushing-into-battle Gryffindor. __The worst enemy of Slytherins. Not only that, but she's a mudblood witch wannabe, through and through arrogant, snobby, and proud of her own crappy bloodline which has about as much virtue as the dirt clods off the bottoms of Hagrid's boots. Stick to your own house, your_ pure-blooded _house, shut up, and eat your breakfast._

But he couldn't resist glancing back one more time at the brown-haired Gryffindor witch.

* * *

The rest of those morning hours went by in a flash for Draco. Nothing really registered in his memory that day as he sped through classes, planning carefully exactly how and when he would kill Harry Potter that night. Nothing else mattered but that. And by then, he would be gone from this disgusting failure of a wizard school and up a couple steps in the Death Eaters. Voldemort _had_ to respect him for the successful assassination which he himself had never been able to pull off.

"Excuse me," he murmured subconsciously to Ron as he swept past in the hallway. "Gotta get to Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Ron stopped in his tracks like Draco had just cast a _Petrificus Totalus _jinx on him.

"Um, Draco?" he asked, incredulous. "Did you just say _Excuse me?_"

Draco stopped also, realizing that he had, instantly flushing red.

"Shut up." he snapped, and drew his wand, pointing it at Ron. "_Langlock._" he muttered as Ron's eyes widened, his tongue gluing to the roof of his mouth.

"I'm gonna get you back, Malfoy! Mark my words, you wormy Slytherin scum!" he tried to yell, fury lighting up his eyes as he drew his wand. However, it came out more like "Mm mmfhmn mff mfh mfhnm, mmfmhn! Mfhm mm mmhnf, mhn mhnfm Mfmmhnf mhhn!"

"Truly frightening." Draco drawled smugly. "I'm so scared I forgot to scream. May I remind you that you're totally incapable of a decent non-verbal spell cast?"

"You seem scared enough of nothing these days." Harry retorted angrily, putting himself in front of Ron, drawing his wand. "What, your days as a Death Eater catching up with you?"

Draco froze for a second, instinctively moving his sleeve down in front of his wrist, hiding the serpentine coil in its folds.

"If that's supposed to be an accusation," he snapped a bit too quickly, "It's a truly pathetic one. What makes you think I'm a Death Eater, Potter?"

Harry glared at him. "I don't _think _you're a Death Eater, Malfoy," he snarled, flicking his wand. "I _know _you are."

Draco yelped, to his eternal mortification, as he was suddenly thrown into the air, hanging, suspended by his ankle. "_Liberacorpus!" _he shouted, flicking his wand almost frantically as the robe sleeve began to hang loose, the Dark Mark almost visible. Falling to the ground, he managed barely to catch himself right side up, glaring at Harry.

"Nice try, Potter, but you're going to need more than a prank spell." he growled, stalking off, grasping his books angrily, toward Snape's classroom, leaving Harry to wonder how he possibly knew the counter-curse from the book.

To wonder about the blackish smudge that almost revealed itself completely on Draco's skin.

* * *

When Draco entered the gloomy Defense Against the Dark Arts room, he thought someone had put an Imperius curse on Snape.

Snape was _smiling._

Not only that, but he actually patted _Harry Potter_ on the back as he grinned.

"Harry Potter!" he shouted jovially. "My favorite student!"

Harry looked like he was about to faint.

"Um, Sna- I mean, sir, do you need to go see Madam Pomfrey? I mean, you don't seem well...?" he asked hesitantly.

Snape shook his head, still beaming, his clean, shortish hair gleaming in the wan light of the carnation pink room.

"I'm fine, Harry," he said heartily, waving Harry off to his seat breezily. "Don't you worry about ol' Severus."

**...**

**WAIT.**

_"Snape shook his head, still beaming, his **clean, shortish hair **__gleaming in the wan light of the **carnation pink room.**_

_'I'm fine, Harry,' he said heartily, waving Harry off to his seat breezily. 'Don't you worry about **ol'**** Severus.**"_

"You've got to be kidding me." Draco choked out quietly to himself, not realizing he was talking out loud. "You, Severus Snape, got a _haircut_? Redecorated your room in _pink_?"**  
**

"Yes, I did." Snape snapped as he whirled around. "I find this appearance of both teacher and teaching environment much more relaxing and less oppressive to students. I will be referred to as _Professor Snape. _Now shut your mouth, Malfoy. Go to your seat. Fifty points from Slytherin."

Draco opened his mouth to protest, but then thought better of it.

_Fifty points? _he thought furiously as sat down, taking out his materials, fuming. _He's never taken that much from Slytherin, let alone because of me!_

Snape stalked up to the front of the room, tapping his desk with his wand for attention.

"Now, today's lesson is on Inferi. " he said, before whirling around to point at Harry suddenly with his wand, the latter jumping in his seat, startled, "I believe, Potter, you have some wisdom to impart on this important and necessary subject of Inferi?"

"Y-yes, sir?" Harry stammered, still taken by surprise, his knuckles white from gripping the desk in apprehension.

"What is the difference between Inferi and ghosts?" Snape barked, although every word seemed to be forced out as the professor clenched his teeth in effort.

Harry wracked his brain for an answer, desperately sorting out what little he knew about the undead creatures. "Ghosts a-are transparent?" he offered lamely.

"Stop stuttering, Potter." Snape snapped. "For your information," he ignored the about to implode Hermione's ecstatically waving arm and her scrunched-up face who was literally bouncing up and down in her seat, "Inferi are corpses reanimated by a Dark witch or wizard and obeys the summoner's command, alike a puppet. Ghosts are the imprint of a soul which has departed from this earth, and as Potter wisely informed us, transparent."

A couple Slytherin wizards and witches, including Draco (quite heartily) snorted derisively as Harry ducked his head, fuming.

Ron cocked his head angrily, shouting out, "Well yeah, but Harry told us how to recognize them, and that's the important thing! What, are you going to walk up to an Inferi or a ghost and ask 'Hey, are you an imprint of a soul which has departed from this earth?'"

This brought a general tumult of applause and laughter as Snape's face flushed scarlet with rage.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor," Snape snapped, straining every word like it took a tremendous effort to say, "I expected nothing more sophisticated than that from you, Mr. Weasley."

The roar of approval was even louder from the snickering crowd.

"_Silence!_" Snape bellowed, voice tired, before regaining composure. "_Quiet, you insolent fools_!"

Immediate silence. Draco had always passionately envied Professor Snape's ability to do that. That was one of the many qualities of Professor Snape which he admired greatly. Today, he was too immersed in his own thoughts.

"Draco Malfoy!" Snape barked without any effort at all, "What was the last word I said?"

Draco's head snapped up. "'Said'," he offered hesitantly. "-sir?"

Snape's eyes seemed to burn angrier than usual. "Don't give me any cheek, young man!" Suddenly, his fury was replaced as quickly as it had come, a concern spreading over his face with some effort as he cringed. "D-Draco," he ground out carefully, "Go see Madam Pomfrey. Y-you d-don't seem well."

Draco shook his head, tempted to roll his eyes, but his fellow Slytherins hated him enough for knocking off fifty of their hard-earned House points in less than a minute.

"I'm fine." he said politely, ducking his head to hide the annoyance and complete irritation in his pale eyes.

"Are you sure?" Snape more commanded than asked, obvious that he was ordering him to go.

Draco sighed, stood up, and walked toward the door, aware of all the eyes on him and the suppressed snickers. He sharpy turned his head in the general direction of the Gryffindors, casting a venomous glance at Ron as the latter mouthed the words _Visit forty-seven this week _and a smug grin. No doubt he almost constant visits to the healing witch was the laughingstock of the entire school, courtesy of Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter, infamously passionate Malfoy haters.

Draco stalked up the hallway to the hospital wing, gripping his wand tighter. There was no knowing what other kind of theatrical performance Weasley Theater, opening anytime whenever Draco got in trouble, had in store for him when he got back.

The normal rush 'n bustle of the infirmary came in earshot as Draco tried to walk slower, dreading whatever ridiculous treatment Madam Pomfrey could possibly cook up now. Last week it had been some suspicious-looking green, wriggling, worm-like tubers which tasted like crap, courtesy of Professor Sprout. The stuff, contrary to making him better, had instead given him a severe case of diarrhea. Apparently, there had been a mix-up- the correct cure was some slimy, pinkish, slug-shaped bean-things. On Harry's not-really-so-secret-anymore secret request (Ron had rubbed it in his face afterwards), Professor Slughorn, the Potions teacher, had refused to make an antidote for him, so he had to run between classes and the boys' bathroom every five minutes for the entire week. Which meant that he had been disqualified for Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team, because, obviously, you couldn't have a Seeker who kicked off into the air and dropped almost vertically down in the middle of the match to make a mad dash to the restroom.

They had to use Vincent Goyle instead, and Harry steamrollered him in five minutes without any effort. Goyle had managed barely to kick off and rise to the elevation of the actual game action before Harry had plucked the Golden Snitch almost carelessly out of the air.

"No, dear, you're fine, scurry on down to class now." Pomfrey's voice chirped brightly in the distance, before a dazed Neville appeared at the end of the hallway, tottering down the marble corridor.

Draco looked sharply at the normally shy Gryffindor, whose head snapped around robotically, eyes clouded with a possessed uncertainty.

"Whatcha looking at?" Neville snapped confusedly, twisting the corners of his mouth jerkily downwards in a frown like he was a marionette on strings.

"Your back." Draco answered innocently, deciding to take advantage of the moment.

"My back?" Neville repeated in confusion, his face bewildered.

Draco nodded earnestly with as much sincerity as he could muster.

"Yes, your spine." he replied, voice devoid of any malicious intent, sounding very un-Malfoy-like. "I'm really sorry about your condition, you know."

Neville shook his head, throughout perplexed by Draco's seemly innocent suggestion. "I don't have a condition."

"Liar." Draco muttered, before smiling sympathetically. "I'm assuming some upstart genius tried to give you a spine transplant in a pathetic attempt to make you try to face off with me. I'm sorry to say, but the operation might have malfunctioned horribly, as your brain doesn't seem fully functional."

Neville was thrown into a chaotic tumult of shock at Draco's sincerity and concern, as well as his own state of health.

Draco smirked slightly, getting ready for the kicker, folding his arms neatly. "Not implying, Neville, that your brain was ever fully functional. Perhaps this, for lack of a better term, I shall use the word _proverbial_ less than correctly, operation of yours was done by your own insufficiently dexterous butterfingers?"

Neville went from zero to fulminating rage, seething literally at the teeth. "You-!" he choked out in anger, before attempting to swing a feeble punch at Draco's temple, who effortlessly ducked.

"Used to dodging that from Ron," he drawled casually. "See you around, _Longbottom. _I would hurry back to class- there's probably some useless botanical factoids that you might be interested in rotting your less-than-decent brains in."

He swept off, unable to hide a pleased, malicious smile as his black robes fluttered behind him like a murder of crows, Neville shaking his fist, shouting shaky, empty threats after him.

Draco walked into the infirmary, slipping inside the room, closing the door quickly so Neville's shouting wouldn't be heard by Madam Pomfrey. He sighed quietly as he stood, back to the door, unwilling to surrender himself to the healer's poking and prodding and swallow bitter, smoking concoctions which would make him probably throw up hours afterward in an attempt to ''purge the poisons from the body''.

"Madam Pomfrey?" he muttered unhappily, "Sn- I mean, _Professor _Snape sent me here because he thought something was wrong with me _again._"

Madam Pomfrey didn't even bother to turn around to look at him as she remained bent over, continuing to sort her squirming herbs.

"You again?" she chuckled. "What is it this time, Draco?"

Draco shrugged nonchalantly, glancing around the infirmary. It was strangely empty- more empty than it should be, with Pomfrey's almost paranoid perspective on the slightest sicknesses.

Madam Pomfrey didn't even look at him. "In that case, Draco, run along back to class. You'll be fine."

Draco nodded tersely, slipping back through the door, breaking into a run back toward Snape's classroom, eyes narrowed. He was relieved that Madam Pomfrey didn't forcefully administer her mysterious remedies, but she wasn't like herself- Pomfrey was serious- _too _serious, in his opinion- about her duty. She always insisted on examining students even when there was absolutely nothing wrong with them before grudgingly giving them the green light.

He opened the door cautiously as the bell suddenly rang, him biting his tongue to stop from yelping as he was almost stampeded by a rush of students relieved to escape Severus Snape's terrifyingly piercing gaze, and, despite the professor's redecorating efforts, creepy atmosphere.

Slinking inside, chagrined, he quietly stalked over to his desk, collecting his materials in silence before running back toward the door, hopeful not to be seen by Snape and blend into the crowd.

"Draco Malfoy!" a harsh voice barked.

_No such luck. Because life just hates me like that._ he thought grimly as he retreated, shamefacedly, back to the towering figure at the front of the room. He shied away best he could, trying unsuccessfully to stare the enraged professor in the eye.

"Yes, Professor?" he asked timidly. _At least Weasley isn't here to gloat. _he comforted himself.

Snape seemed to calm down a bit as he asked hesitantly, "Did I seem... unnatural today?"

Draco bit his tongue again, stifling a yelp as the salty tang of blood filled his mouth, trying to stop himself from drawling, _Well, duh- what kind of Defense Against the Dark Arts paints their room pink?_, but he managed a muffled, respectful, "Not at all"

Snape relaxed. "Good. It's dreadfully hard to pose for Him to reduce suspicious. Speaking of which- did you hear from Him yet?"

Draco feigned confusion, desperately hoping it wasn't the "Him" he dreaded. "Um, him?" he asked. "Who?"

A flicker of irritation passed over the teacher's face as he sighed. "Not 'him', Draco, 'Him'. _You know who _I'm talking about."

"No," Draco lied glibly. "But I'll be sure to tell you if He sends word."

Snape nodded, his black, shrewd eyes still dully disoriented, before regaining his strict composure. "Scurry off then, Malfoy." he snapped. "Chop chop."

Draco didn't need to be told twice as he rushed out of the room, casting a furtive glance over his shoulder as he ran into the hallway, blending in amongst the crowd.

Well, not exactly blending. Everyone swerved to avoid him as if he had spattergroit as he hurried through the hallway, stumbling over outstretched legs and evading swinging punches as the crowd of students jeered enthusiastically at him. Someone even threw a rotten tomato which splattered on his black robes.

It was the perfect proverbial taste of his own medicine.

"Hey, Draco!" a familiar, passionately hated voice called out from above the tumult. "Come on over here, Weasley's Theater is having a grand re-opening, and we'd love to have our much-heard of star of the show appear for Episode number 152 of Malfunctioning Malfoy- Hogwarts' one and only, 99% true, 1% exaggeration, and 100% laugh-your-butt-off comedy live performance!"

Draco employed an impressive, yet revolting stream of assorted swear words which attracted horrified glances from some Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw girls, as well as some "Ooh... Malfoy..."s from a mob of particularity cheeky first-years. Veering off to the left, he clutched his books tighter as he ran at breakneck speed down a dark, deserted corridor, footsteps echoing in the gloom as Ron and Harry's shouting began to draw nearer, a pattering of feet sounding behind him as the two Gryffindor boys laughed to one another, in close pursuit.

Draco skidded to a stop, swinging a random door open and bolting into it, slamming the door behind him and locking it quickly. He breathed heavily, back pressed to the door, knowing that Ron would have no problem testing out his brothers' Weasley Wizard Wheezes merchandise on him.

As he surveyed his new surroundings, an empty, deserted (thankfully) boys' bathroom greeted him. Which made him realize that he wasn't alone.

"Crap." he muttered under his breath as Moaning Myrtle shimmered into existence, wearing her eternally frowning expression.

"What did you say?" Myrtle asked suspiciously, peering at him through her round-rimmed glasses.

"Nothing." Draco snapped, still in a nasty mood as he tried to wipe his robes clean from the squashed tomato.

Myrtle sniffed as she glared at Draco. "Someone came asking about you, if you're interested." she said despondently.

Draco stiffened immediately, drawing his hawthorn wand instinctively. _Would Voldemort try to come to Hogwarts-?_

Myrtle looked slightly pleased as she allowed herself a small toss of her head to congratulate herself on ensnaring Draco's attention. "Yes, a tall man with long white-blond hair. A rather nasty man, threatening a poor, already-dead ghost like myself with his horrible little magic tricks. But he looked a lot like you."

Draco let out a sigh of relief. Lucius Malfoy- his father. "And-?" he pressed impatiently.

"He told me to give this to you." she said blatantly, literally hurling a long, black and silver staff at Draco, who barely managed to catch it. Examining it closer, it had a silver serpent's head with Slytherin green, emerald eyes topping off one end of the slender, black rod. The other end was flat and unadorned. Draco pulled on the snake's head, unsheathing a yet thinner wand. Tossing the sheath back to Myrtle, he twirled the ebony wand.

"It's my father's wand." he muttered. "Why would he give me this?"

Myrtle pouted, turning the empty walking stick upside down, shaking it as a slip of paper fell out, before tossing the heirloom unceremoniously off to the side.

"If you were so busy chucking sticks at me." she huffed. "He said to keep it safe from-" she shuddered, remembering he death many years ago. "_You-Know-Who."_

Draco shrugged, slipping the wand into his robes. "Is that it?"

"'_Is that it?'" _Myrtle fulminated in fury. "'_Is that it?' I'm not your owl, you know, Malfoy!"_

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry." he consoled quickly, before pressing his ear to the door. "I think they're gone."

Myrtle relaxed and turned away, walking into a stall. "You know, Draco, if that nasty Ron boy tries to get you again, tell me." she said importantly. "I'll be the one flushing him down into the lake this time." She dove into the commode, disappearing with a final flush.

Draco slipped out into the hallway again, and long, dappled shadows stretched from the windows in a dazzling show of crimson and gold (he realized these were Gryffindor colors, and he snorted derisively)- with Voldemort and the wand on his mind, he hadn't realized it was already late.

_My marks are going to suffer this year. _he thought half-heartedly, not able to bring himself to care much, breaking into a run as he turned the corridor, preparing himself to explain to Slughorn why he hadn't shown up at Potions after lunch, as he desperately concocted a reasonable, convincing excuse in his brain.

* * *

Draco Malfoy lied awake, counting the number of rippling folds on the green silk that draped over his bed for the fourteenth thousand time that night. Staying awake at night to commit a murder attempt was a lot duller than he had anticipated as he rolled over on his side, eyes flicking through the darkness.

Goyle was still indefinitely awake as Draco turned back, staring up at the canopy again, staring daggers into the shadows concealing the infamous insomniac.

The clock by one of the Slytherin boys' bed was ticking incessantly, reminding him over and over again that he had to move fast. But he couldn't go anywhere, much less break into the Gryffindor tower, when one of his roommates was still awake. He'd get out of bed and start to make his way stealthily to the staircase and _BAM, _Goyle would be squealing _Draco's breaking curfew _until the entire school was up and stirring. Then it'd be the usual teachers yelling at him again, sent straight back to bed, detention every so-and-so day, and an abysmal failure for trying to kill Potter.

It didn't exactly help that, after his dumping Voldemort where he had gone insanely terrified over threats, thus ultimately leading to the demise of his popularity (and beyond), his ex-cohorts hated him with the fire of a thousand suns. Goyle wouldn't hesitate to land him in Snape's office.

Finally, Goyle's breathing evened as Draco allowed himself a quiet sigh of relief as he slipped out of bed, still in his black robes. He swept up his own hawthorn wand and the family heirloom from under his pillow and grabbed his broomstick- a quick departure might be necessary. Suppressing a loud grumble and an exaggerated, heaving sigh, he contented himself with a venomous glance in Goyle's general direction, slinking furtively to the stairwell.

He crept down the stairwell, freezing with every rustle in the silent, standstill darkness of the Slytherin common room, where a lazy fire still burned weakly in the embers. Draco ignored its warm, hazy glow, running stealthily to the door and opening it just a crack, giving the room a final sweep for intruders, and stepped into the dark, cold hall, closing the door slowly behind me.

Jogging up the stairs, Draco slid his hawthorn wand into his robes, drawing out the serpent-headed wand instead- with its dragon heart-string wand, it was probably much more powerful than his unicorn hair core one.

Thankfully (or unfortunately for Harry), the stone, dreary Dungeon Corridor deserted. Distant meowing echoed through the grey, rough walls as Filch's cat prowled the far hall, her slanted eyes glowing creepily in the dark.

Draco took care to stick to the darker shadows, avoiding the feline's piercing gaze, breath held, as the cat meowed one more time, scratched at the rough floor, and stalked off, tail held high in the air.

Draco closed his eyes in relief before he set out again, moving swiftly toward the Gryffindor Tower.

* * *

A hard pain hit him in the head as Draco hissed in exasperation, rubbing his forehead for the fifteenth time. He had veered too close to the wall and slammed straight into it forehead-first as he staggered back, not realizing that the turn was not as sharp as he had guessed it would be. Tempted to just use _Lumos, _he had to squint into the darkness while constantly avoiding Filch's swinging lanterns and Mrs. Norris, who had them for eyes. Changing his course, he was relieved that he didn't face-plant the wall again.

Constant wrong turns and breathless waits for the guard to pass by cost him valuable time- he had been wandering the endless corridors and staircases of Hogwarts Castle for at least two to three hours now. Daylight was probably still five hours away- it was two in the morning, or at least Draco estimated by the moon through the windows. He assumed that he was getting close to the Gryffindor Tower, and as he rounded the bend, sure enough, there was a painting of a rather plump lady in a pale pink silk dress which draped over her rather substantial features. A pudgy face glared at him, one eye blearily open, asking surlily, "Password?"

"Enneacontakaienneagon." Draco whispered, keeping still to the shadows, just in case the portrait could recognize him.

The portrait swung open to reveal a glowing, homey common room. Draco crept through the hole in silence as the painting swung shut behind him, fortunately, soundlessly.

A glowing, cheery hearth greeted him as the fire illuminated a golden and vermilion room with comfortable chairs, chess sets, and beautiful, ancient-looking murals of chivalrous needs and nobility painted delicately on the walls. Two stone staircases spiraled up and down at either side of the back wall, up, Draco assumed, like the Slytherin dungeon, was boys, down, girls.

Draco slid up the ascending staircase silently as he readied his wand, repeating the spell incantation over and over in his head, building his resolve.

_Avada Kedrava. _Swift, clean, and to the point. An Unforgivable Curse- perhaps the worst of the trio, but Draco knew it was the most effective way to kill Potter. Then he'd have a headstart on his broom before McGongall screamed bloody murder at the murder of the Boy Who Lived.

_What an ironic name. _Draco mused. _The Boy Who Lived by Voldemort, the master, the Boy Who Died by Draco Malfoy, the underdog._

But when he reached the top of the stairwell, he froze, serpentine wand in front of him defensively.

Directly in front of him stood Harry Potter, standing, holly and phoenix feather wand out, pointed directly at Draco's chest.

_**{Going to write more ASAP, please review if you had time! Hope you enjoyed!}**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**{So... I hope you guys enjoyed Chapter 1... so here's Chapter 2, hope you like it... (wow, talk about stating the obvious...) But yeah. Thanks for your support, guys. Appreciate it.**_

_**Yeah, it takes me forever to get a chapter up... O.o So sorry for that... I hate my Writer's Block.**_

_**Not as successful as my other stories (funny cause I thought I improved on this one), but... oh well.**_

_**Enjoy.}**_

"Hello, Malfoy." Harry whispered evenly, without any trace of surprise in his voice. "I don't recall inviting you to Gryffindor Tower?"

Draco didn't flinch, but his mind was in turmoil. _How did he know? I haven't told anyone- have I?_

Harry cocked his head to one side, his hand visibly trembling despite his cool, laid back tone.

"Back off, Malfoy. Don't make me kill you." he threatened, voice slightly quavering, tightening his grip on his wand.

Draco laughed derisively. "Kill me?" his cold, grey eyes glittered with malice. "That's a new one, Potter. You? The valiant, brave Boy Who Lived? The one who saved Hogwarts so selflessly last year from Voldemort? Trying to _Avada Kedrava _someone? I thought your chivalrous Gryffindor spirit didn't have the nerve, not to say you utterly lack the magical prowess. A noble Gryffindor like you, especially the _famous Harry Potter himself, _would never, _never, _dream of killing someone not even from your House in your own bedroom. What cowardice!"

Harry's eyes flickered in uncertainty as Draco's words registered, severely prodding him in his sense of honor. "_Muffliato_." he almost snapped, waving his wand as a slight haze in the air shimmered around them, sealing them off inside, completely soundproof. "We're even now, _Malfoy-_" he spat the name out contemptuously like someone had just put sulfuric acid in his mouth, "- No one helps me, 'cause no one's going to wake up, and you're alone without your little minions to bail your sorry behind out while you turn tail like a scared little Slytherin rat."

Draco smirked. Potter had risen to the bait. Now a little insulting to fire him up just in case if he had to weasel out and throw the blame on someone...

"Typical, honorable Harry Potter. Brilliant and shining in your pure, innocent soul, blindly brave to the last atomic quark." He raised an eyebrow, savoring Harry's look of loathing hatred. "Not that I'm complaining that you just gave me a point blank fight."

Harry's left eye actually twitched in irritation as Draco mentally chalked up a point for himself.

"_Enough!" _he bellowed in rage as he thrust out his wand. "_Crucio!_"

Draco's eyes widened as the invisible force snaked through the air, hitting him in the throat as he dropped to his knees, fractured images dancing before his eyes, screaming out in agony. Lances of white-hot pain slashed through his brain, making him drop into a crawl of sorts, dropping the ebony and silver wand, both hands clutching his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

Harry just stood there, mouth half-open in shock of what he had just done, but unwilling to end Draco's torture, face set grimly into a merciless, stony glare. His holly wand was raised, still shakily pointed at Draco, who literally dug his hands into the floorboards, the wood splintering as shards of wood embedded themselves, stabbing into his flesh.

Paralyzed by pain, his mind began to slip into the subconscious as the curse began to take its toll, blood roaring in his ears, heart painfully ricocheting in his ribcage, ready to implode. The pain itself, not damaging him physically, was breaking his mind, shutting down his brain in the pure excruciation of the curse. Specters of voices called out at him- they were indiscernible, but hauntingly malicious, snarling, hissing, cold hands grabbing at him to pull him into the murky darkness of his own deranged mind...

He let out a high, keening cry which made Harry shiver, a shrill noise like a screaming banshee which lanced through the cold air in a shriek of pleading desperation. Shaking uncontrollably, he looked up at Harry, trembling in agony and torture, more pain than he had ever experienced in his life- emotional and physical, all building up in a wave of indescribable agony.

Harry's resolve faltered- he hated Draco with a tremendous loathing, but even doing this to him made him feel inhuman, like Voldemort himself. Lowering his wand, his steadiness broke as he broke the spell with a flick of his wrist.

Draco collapsed to the ground, unmoving, perhaps even stiller than death itself.

Remorse overflowed in Harry, drowning him in shock and terror at what he had done. Draco Malfoy was by far not one of his most fuzzy and warm friends, but even he didn't deserve to be killed so heartlessly...

_What have I done?_

"Malfoy?" he whispered hoarsely, kneeling down beside the huddle of black. "Malfoy!"

The silhouette did not respond. When Harry touched the Slytherin's pale skin, it was icy, quickly cooling under his fingers.

"Draco!" Harry shouted in alarm, shaking the boy almost frantically. "Draco! Answer me, _please_!"

In a black blur of shimmering cloth, Harry was slammed into the opposite wall, his head snapping back as the impact drove the last atom of oxygen from his lungs as he choked for breath. His wand clattered, unattainably far, at the foot of Ron's bed. The Muffliato shimmer faded quickly as every syllable could be heard plainly throughout the Gryffindor tower. Unable to move anything excepting his eyes, he lied there, helpless in a full Body-Bind curse, Draco standing before him, wand directly aimed at his forehead.

Clearly whatever humane conscience Harry had for Draco was not, by any means, mutual.

"What." Draco snarled in an icy, unforgiving voice. His eyes glittered with amused malice. "You were wrong to spare me, Potter. Surely you wouldn't have been as foolish to think I would return any merciful feelings toward you?"

Harry would have glared back, but he was unable to contort his facial features into a decent angry look. He had to just kind of stare at Draco blankly, hoping he got the message.

Draco could have cracked up and written a melodramatic Academy Award winner if this process hadn't been delicate enough.

"You know what I'm going to do, don't you, Potter?" he whispered menacingly, the emerald eyes of the serpent seeming to flicker with a malignant green fire. "I'm sure you can figure it out, in about five seconds, when I step over your dead body." Centering his wand on Harry's forehead, directly at the scar, he smirked. This was too easy.

"_Avada Kedrava!" _he shouted as a snakelike, brilliant flare erupted from the tip of the black wand, writhing in the air as it cast a haunting shade of verdant green, highlighting Draco's sharp, features, contorted with hatred and the willpower to kill.

Harry stared at the flash of green energy as he felt the cold, impending rush of certain death as his parents' face flashed before his eyes, whispering to him, reaching out for him- intelligible whispers of longing and reassurance.

_So this is how it ends. _Harry thought miserably. _So many years of thwarting Lord Voldemort and now I'm going to be killed by one of his pet vermin because of a moment's weakness._

Suddenly, as if in response to his laments, a sharp cry of "_Stupefy!" _rang through the air, sharply.

A red flash suddenly streaked through the air, colliding squarely with the _Avada Kedrava _curse- it might have been Harry's confused brain, but for a moment in his delirium the two spells formed a crimson, roaring lion pouncing on a writhing serpent, mercilessly slaughtering each other before there was a flash of blinding white light, and the room was as dark and as quiet as if nothing had happened.

Draco whirled around, mouth slightly gaping in surprise, before a stern _"Experillamus" _knocked the ebony wand from his grip where it clattered away a few, unreachable feet away. As Draco swooped down to retrieve his wand, a rush of golden brown hair streaked from the shadows, before the former Death Eater was slammed against the wall, completely faceless in the Gryffindor witch's rage.

Hermione pressed her wand tip farther into the boy's pale throat, eyes narrowed in fury.

"What!" _thwack_ "Do!" _thwack_ "You!" _thwack_ "Think!" _thwack_ "You!" _thwack_ _"_Are!" _thwack_ "Doing!" _thwack_ "You!" _thwack _"Stinking!" _thwack _"Slytherin!" _thwack _"Scum! _I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!" _she screamed like a madwoman, punctuating each word with a open-palmed slap across the face, with a thickly of painful punches to his chest at the end of her fulmination.

Draco would have lashed back a stinging retort if he hadn't been choking for breath, prying feebly at Hermione with his hands in an attempt to worm out of her iron grip.

"Trying to run away now, huh, you cowardly curmudgeon? If courage was brains you'd be stupider than a domestic turkey as the first course of the Christmas Hogwarts feast!" Eyes blazing, she added furiously, "Not that you were ever above the intellectual level of a common stuffed Meleagris!"

Ron began to stir, blinking his eyes rapidly as he turned over, sliding out of bed. "Hearmnwey..." he slurred sleepily. "Whatcha doing up ere...?" He cast a second glance at the shrieking girl, snapping to his senses immediately.

"WHAT'S HE DOING HERE?" he bellowed. "THE CRAPPY MALFORMED MALFOY RAT!" He ran toward Harry, quickly casting the counter-spell to the full Body-Bind curse. "I TOLD YOU!" he yelled, waving his arms frantically in circles as Harry groaned, pushing himself upright and reaching for his wand and glasses. "HE'S HERE TO KILL HARRY! I KNEW IT! I WOULDN'T EXPECT THE NO-GOOD SLAVE TO DO ANYTHING BUT HIS DISHONORABLE, DIRTY MURDERS, ESPECIALLY TO KILL THE BOY WHO MASTER YOU-KNOW-WHO ORDERED HIM TO SOONER OR LATER! THE FILTHY-" he used a word which which would make Mrs. Weasley keel over in a permanent vegetative state, "- SHOULD BE SENT TO ROT IN AZKABAN! SCRAP AZKABAN, GO ON AND DO THE CRUCIATUS CURSE ON HIM FOR A MONTH AND THEN HAND HIM OVER DIRECTLY FOR THE DEMENTOR'S KISS! BURN HIM ALIVE IN _FIENDFYRE_! THAT'S HOW THEY SHOULD DEAL WITH THE PETTY LITTLE BACKSTABBER! YEAH, AND I FORGOT, THEY SHOULD ALSO-"

He cut off abruptly as Professor McGonagall strode into the room swiftly, eyeing the three students coldly.

"What." she said in a low, deadly tone. "Is the meaning of this."

Ron's fury began to blaze again as he bellowed, shaking his fists at the now almost colorless Slytherin, "MURDER! FILTHY MURDER!"

McGonagall lifted her head, a clipped authority souring her voice. "Enough, Weasley," she snapped, finger beating a tattoo on her wand threateningly. "Go to bed, unless you want me to borrow a disciplinary solution from Professor Snape."

Ron shot McGonagall an angry look when she wasn't looking, and quieted down. He, however, refused to budge.

"Draco," he said, struggling to keep the raging flames from his voice, "Tried to kill Harry Potter this night, and Hermione saved him by Stunning the _Avada Kedrava."_

McGonagall audibly sucked in her breath. "Is it true, Mr. Malfoy," you attempted to kill him using the Killing Curse?"

Draco hesitated, before slowly nodding. Arguing with the Gryffindor Head of House was practically useless. It just landed you from the frying pan into the fire.

McGonagall's eyes narrowed in barely concealed rage, gripping her wand tighter. "Snape! Headmaster!" she called over her shoulder as Dumbledore and the Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers filed in behind her from the stairwell. "We have an issue here with Malfoy."

Draco struggled to find a snakehole in his situation. "Potter!" he croaked out. "He attacked me with _Crucio_ first!"

"And this, Malfoy," Dumbledore said in a completely calm, yet scarily foreboding tone, "gives you the right to attempt to kill him in response?"

Draco could have screamed in frustration and anger if Hermione hadn't been strangling him.

"Unhand him, Hermione. Such manhandling is completely unnecessary. After this mess has been sorted out, detention for nearly killing a fellow student and the unnecessary, I would say politely, passionate, yet unnecessary defense." Snape said coolly.

_Bless you Severus Snape.  
_

Snape's black, shrewd eyes flickered back to Draco's pale face. "If he moves an inch, he will be torn in half bya, ahem, _rather nasty _curse, personally administered from yours truly, not to say at least a dozen hexes from my skilled colleagues."

_I take that back._

Dumbledore watched Draco gravely, before commanding in a steely, un-Dumbledore-like tone, "Give me your wand, Malfoy. And yours, Potter."

Wordlessly, the two wizards walked over to Dumbledore and handed in the two wooden wands in silence. Draco couldn't suppress a visible shudder of fear, instantly flushing scarlet in anger and embarrassment as Ron smirked at him, catching his uneasiness.

"Shut up, Weasley." he growled through the corner of his mouth, staring daggers at Ron through his peripheral vision.

"Manners, Malfoy. Manners. They are a necessity at my school." Dumbledore reproached him.

Ron gave him a triumphant grin and mouthed snarkily, "_Not that you'll be at Hogwarts for more than ten minutes, you're off to rot with the dementors._"

Draco glared at him angrily. "_Neither will your friend Potter be." _he mouthed back, tilting his head cockily as Ron shut up, fuming.

Dumbledore cleared his throat as Draco snapped back to attention, a dread chill rising up in him as Dumbledore removed his own wand from his robes, laying the elm and holly wands on a nearby nightstand.

"_Prior Incanto." _he muttered, flicking his ancient wand to one side sharply as a green, faded bolt flashed from Draco's wand, a dull red glow emanating from Harry's.

Dumbledore stepped back gravely, nodding to Snape and McGonagall.

"They both speak the truth," he sighed in disappointment and defeat. "Call the dementors to take both of them away."

"_Wait!_" Hermione shrieked. "This isn't fair, Harry was just trying to defend himself against a Death Eater, Malfoy would've killed everyone in the Gryffindor Tower if it weren't for him casting _Crucio _at the last moment. He was desperate, wasn't he, Ron?"

Ron nodded fervently, putting on his best honest and pleading face.

Snape stared at Hermione coldly, sweeping up the two wands into his hand in addition to his own. For a moment, Draco's hopes rose that he would defend him.

"If, Miss Granger, you are so intent on defending your sweetheart-" this drew furious glares from Draco, Hermione, Harry, and Ron- evidently, he hadn't forgotten Rita Skeeter's gossipy article on the two's relationship- "- you can keep him company in Azkaban if you wish."

Draco could have sworn Snape was enjoying this fairly impressive mess immensely as the slightest hints of a smile twitched at the corner of his permanently frowning face.

As if catching Draco's disappointment, he cleared his throat again, staring down Hermione. "Also, Miss Granger, I trust you have proof for this preposterous claim that a _sixteen year old _would be in _Lord Voldemort's_ inner circle of accomplices?"

"DON'T SAY THE NAME!" Ron bellowed in fear and frustration, before catching a threatening, narrow-eyed glance from Snape. "I mean, please don't say his name, Professor."

Snape turned his back on Ron, hissing coldly, every syllable bitter with distaste, "I... apologize, Mr. Weasley. And if you would step out of the matter?"

Ron gritted his teeth and receded into the shadows of his bed, but not before he had slipped a scrap of paper into Harry's shaking hands. The receiver accepted it wordlessly, clutching it like his life depended on it. It possibly might have been.

Snape lifted his chin, his greasy curtains of black hair rippling in the wan moonlight filtering through the windows, clearing his throat expectantly at Hermione.

Hermione stiffened, grabbing Draco suddenly by the arm, who yelped in surprise and terror. Pressing her wand to his throat hard with one hand, she yanked the sleeve of his black robes up sharply, catching her breath to brace herself as Draco closed his eyes in defeat...

_It's all over._

"No," Hermione breathed.

_Please don't be the left-_

...Which so happened to be his right sleeve. The moon shone on empty, pale, unblemished skin.

Snape blinked at Hermione almost smugly. "Good night then, Granger. That will be enough. You may now proceed to your dormitory room."

Hermione's eyes widened in disappointment and surprise. "What? I could have sworn it would be there-" she shrieked, grabbing Draco by the throat, who choked, gargling for breath in the death grip. "You rat, where is it?" she screamed in his face, drawing her wand. "You're with _Him _now_, _aren't you? Spit it out, and don't lie, you-"

Snape cleared his throat loudly, giving Hermione a cold stare. "_Good night then, Granger. That will be enough. You may now proceed to your dormitory room."_

Hermione gave the two Slytherins a sulky look and an infuriated _Humph!_ before throwing Draco to the ground, his chin banging hard against the floor, stomping down the staircase. She stopped in her tracks, turned around, marching back up the stairwell before stopping beside the Slytherin, eyes flaming.

Draco cringed, steeling himself for a sharp, hard blow.

Hermione didn't disappoint him. She kicked him in the ribs hard, her toe digging into his solar plexus as she yelled some indistinguishable syllables, turned on her heel, and ran down the stairs in a huff.

Draco doubled over on his left side, hugging his stomach as he tried to regain his breath, annoyed that Harry was trying not to laugh his larynx to the point of irredeemable damage, pushing himself up angrily and rolling his neck counterclockwise.

"Some noble Gryffindor," he muttered, glancing up nervously at Snape who had strode over to the window, looking down, a pleased smile twisting the corners of his mouth.

"The dementors are here," he barked to Harry and Draco, who jumped at few a few inches off the ground.

"Crap the idiot, now what?." Harry and Draco both muttered simultaneously, before whipping around to glare each other down.

"What did you say?" they both accused in perfect harmony, as if they had been practicing years for this moment.

"Idiot!" they both bellowed in synchronization, Draco drawing his hawthorn wand and aiming at Harry.

"You got a problem with that?" they both challenged in response.

"_Expelliarmus!" _Snape snapped loudly, unable to hide a fleeting species of a smile as the Slytherin wizard's eyes widened comically in surprise as the hawthorn wood clattered away. "_Accio wand!" _The darkish wand flew into the professor's grip as he glared at both of them, infuriated beyond control.

"Enough, fools! You are _both _idiots, you spoiled drama queens!"

Draco and Harry knew to shut up, and _now_, as there was four wands aimed straight at them, held by an impressively skilled wizard.

"Get your sorry hides down the steps." Snape hissed coldly, eyes glinting, his robes swishing around him like the slithering of an adder.

Draco and Harry soundlessly moved to the steps and ran down them, Snape following stiffly, two wands in each hand, aimed squarely at each of the convicted.

"_Wait!"_ a voice screamed out desperately. "Wait!"

Hermione Granger ran out of the girls' dormitory stairwell, grasping a wand, fully dressed in school robes, eyes wild as she sprinted toward the three.

Snape's merciless black eyes narrowed. "I thought I told you to _leave, Miss Granger._" The emphasis on the thinly veiled command was evident.

Hermione glared back at him, "You said I could come, didn't you?"

There was a confused silence as the witch's meaning sunk in.

Finally, Harry broke the silence.

"Ha-ha," he laughed sincerely, eyes shining with mirth. "That's a new one, Hermione."

Hermione glared at him angrily. "I'm not kidding, Harry. I fully intend to volunteer to go to Azkaban with you."

"_What?_" Harry bellowed suddenly, his temperament completely flipping, eyes blazing. "_Are you out of your mind__?_"

Hermione tilted her chin up in a dignified manner, ignoring Harry's passionately fervent protests.

"Professor Snape, you said I was welcome to accompany Harry if I wished. I want to keep an eye on _him_-" she glanced at Draco pointedly, giving the heavily implied message that the 'him' was not Harry, "- and so I have accepted your offer."

Draco rolled his eyes from behind Snape's back. Same old, same old. Gryffindors, for goodness gracious sakes. They were all the same, dumber than petrified sea slugs.

Snape seemed taken aback for a moment, before opening his mouth to speak, his sallow face evidently pleased.

"_Don't!_" Harry yelled belligerently. "Snape, don't you _dare _let her, you little-"

Snape decided to ignore Harry this once just to annoy him further. "Of course, Granger." he said amiably, pulling off a smile as best as his permanent scowl would allow him.

Hermione literally hurled her wand in the professor's face, hitting his hooked nose hard as she swept into step beside Harry with a furious _Hmph!_.

"What in Merlin's beard do you think you're doing, Hermione?" Harry hissed under his breath. "Go on, scram!"

Hermione turned a hurt, disdainful glare at him.

"In case you haven't noticed," she began in a cool and prim, yet quavering voice, "I am doing you a favor."

Harry snorted derisively. "Some favor, yeah, _getting yourself killed for no reason whatsoever_ is a _sure helpful favor._"

Hermione flipped her brown hair angrily, sniffing. "I am more than happy to return to bed safely if you do not appreciate my assistance and accompaniment to Azkaban. Perhaps you prefer to be left alone to your demise with Malfoy, which should surely contribute to the inevitable, deranged insanity of your mind and eventual death?"

Harry couldn't argue with that and trudged on in silence.

Draco watched the two of them from his averted face, grey eyes flickering with fleeting guilt. So he had gotten Hermione, an innocent girl, involved in it now- an unprecedented part of the plan. Not that pretty much everything else that had happened was unprecedented.

"It's her problem." he snapped, not realizing he had said it out loud. "No one forced her to come- if she goes nuts and dies insane in Azkaban, that's her issue. You're absolutely not going soft on a _Mudblood_."

Hermione's head snapped up as she turned with a death glare on her face.

"What was that?" she said calmly, her voice shaking slightly in anger as her hands curled into fists at her sides.

Draco turned away, flushing red in embarrassment. "Nothing." he lashed out in an attempt to regain his dignity.

_Nice move. _he thought, irritated with himself_. So now they really think you've gone psycho._

Hermione lifted her head higher, tossing her hair over her shoulder primly as she turned her back on him angrily.

Draco shrugged nonchalantly, disguising his indecision and guilt rather effectively, as they walked on in silence.

* * *

The cold wind stung Harry's skin as he shivered in apprehension, trailing behind Snape out of the castle. A tingling, yet numb feeling began to spread over him in a damp, dark shroud, suffocating his spirit, eating at the periphery of his very soul...

Beside him, Draco's greyish eyes glimmered with amusement.

"Scared, Potter?" he breathed, casting a quick, annoyingly cocky glance at him.

"You wish," Harry snarled back. He blinked at Draco's disbelieving, smug grin. "It's the cold, alright? In case you haven't noticed, people shiver in the cold."

He mentally reminded himself to jinx the heck out of Draco as the latter turned away, still smirking. Too bad he didn't have his wand- it was a point blank shot.

The dementors floated a few inches off the ground, their grey-black cloaks drifting around them in an ominous ambiguity. Harry closed his eyes, his hands visibly shaking as they sucked out the warmth from his body, preying on his deepest, darkest fears, swallowing out his sense of humanity...

_"I will not!" _an angry, shaking voice cried out, quavering. "_I am not going anywhere near those things!"_

Harry's head snapped up, jolted back to reality as he tried not to burst out laughing, despite the imminent danger.

Draco had his fists clenched at his sides, obviously trying to appear unafraid and defiant, and failing abysmally. His eyes were wide in shock and terror as he raged at the grimly smiling Snape. "Listen, I'm not going _anywhere _near those... those..." he searched for a worthy description, breaking off into a confused stutter, his entire frame still shaking with fear.

Harry threw a meaningful look at him, smirking. "Who has the last laugh now, huh, Malfoy?" he whispered almost gleefully.

Draco was petrified by fear, unable to concoct a stinging comeback in his jittery brain neurons, only able to form some undecipherable, wild, comical mouthing movements.

Harry allowed himself a brief chuckle, then turned back to concentrating on not having a nervous breakdown himself. To his right, Hermione was shivering, eyes closed, lips moving over and over again, mouthing _Expecto Patronum_, and clenching and unclenching her right hand where he wand was usually at, struggling to maintain sanity.

"What's going on?" he whispered, tapping her shoulder discreetly. "What's Malfoy so scared about?"

Hermione opened one eye. "Were you paying attention to what Professor Snape was saying?"

"No," Harry admitted. "Will you tell me?" he added hopefully.

Hermione looked at him as reproachfully as she could with only one eye open. "He wants us to Disapparate with the dementors."

"Disapparate?" Harry echoed blankly.

Hermione didn't budge, giving him a _you'll see _look. "This is what you would call an _I told you so _moment. Suffer what you get for not listening during class, talking to Ron when important content is being taught with your little _Muffliato _trick from that _Prince-_" she spat the name out disapprovingly, "- of yours."

Harry shrugged unrepentantly as the dementors floated expectantly above the ground, hissing in anticipation and enthusiasm at the growing despair shadowing the convicted, flickering against the dark grey grounds.

"Draco," Snape called calmly, as if the dementors didn't affect him an iota, performing considerably better than Draco, "You first."

Draco's jaw dropped open in surprise.

"Wha- me?" he managed incoherently, resembling a plucked rubber band which was vibrating uncontrollably.

If Snape had been less Snape-like he would have rolled his eyes and groaned.

"Yes, you." he said, with the tiniest bit of an exasperated sigh. The annoyed professor seemed only able to keep his peace with the prospect of permanently saying good-bye to Harry, and watch him groan and moan in torture and agony in an Azkaban prison cell.

_Very optimistic about it, huh? _Harry thought glumly. _It's amazing how egregious a person who spends their entire life teaching kids can be._

Draco glanced at Harry and Hermione quickly.

"Why can't one of them go first?" he objected shakily. "Why me?"

Snape's scowl grew more pronounced as one of his glittering black eyes twitched. "Fine. Potter then."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but he knew he didn't have the favoritism advantage of Draco, and pressed his lips in a tight line as he took one step forward, trembling. The living emotion drained out of him as he approached the now hissing dementor, eyes squeezed shut. A languid, dead feeling began to drag at his every step, choking his breath with the foul, ominous stench of the dead and dying.

_Don't think about standing next to the dementor, _he willed himself silently. _Don't think about the slimy, cold skeleton hands you have to touch, don't think about spinning into nothingness, don't think about the horrible feeling that will consume your soul with a tragic, hopeless feeling, like you'll never be happy again. Don't think about how you'd prefer to be dead when you get near it, don't think about that lip-less mouth which will suck out the living essence out of you, don't think about- too late._

He reached out a sweating, clammy hand, and there was a sickeningly slimy, cold touch take it, and the world collapsed into a swirl of black nothingness.

* * *

Suffocating darkness clogged his throat as Harry let himself spin limply, the howling wind rushing in his ears with a deafening scream of hopelessness. He could feel nothing, only the numb coldness of death. There was a sensation as if being shoved through a glass window, invisible hands constricting his throat, stopping his breathing as he choked for breath, feebly prying at emptiness, and then- it was over.

The ground rushed up to meet him as he steeled himself for a hard impact, hitting the rocky ground full force, every iota of breath knocked from his lungs in a wheezing rush. He lied there, staring up at the starless sky- an overcast sea of blackness, the grey waters surrounding the island silently frothing at the stony shore. An aura of death surrounded the place- an aura that terrified him, drove his consciousness into a wild dervish, sinking under, down, into insanity... he would never survive- was death a more beautiful place...?

There was two crash-landings behind him as Hermione and Draco slammed into the ground, their dementors flickering into existence with more grace.

Harry looked at them, shoulders weighed down by the melancholy aura radiating from the greyish black wraiths and his own overwhelming dread as he looked up at the impregnable black prison fortress looming in front of them, a sea of dementors drifting back and forth around it, carrying out the corpses of dead who had died in hopeless grief.

"Well," he sighed, "Welcome to Azkaban."

_**{That was such a crappy chapter... O.o I decided to save most of it for the next one- sorry it took so long to update... horrible ending... I promise the next one will be better! It'll have some decent fighting, a touch of humor, and a plot twist!**_

_**Just bear with me, appreciated your support, hope you enjoyed so far, please follow/review!}**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**{It's been forever... D: I'm sorry... the mega-hiatus is now over. I think.**_

_**Right, I promised a better chapter (may or may not qualify, I'll let you judge) and a plot twist... (had to drop the funny part though, unfortunately) so here goes**_**_ nothing..._**

**_7outof200- I'm sorry.. I totally forgot about Fanfiction... my updates shall be relatively quicker now._**

**_Thank you for your support, again, all! I promise to do my absolute best on this. The reason for slow update is lack of muse... although now I'm past exposition, the rest of the story is pretty much planned to the end. So updates should be a whole lot faster, although still relatively slow due to chapter length. Hopefully.  
_**

_**Also- any confusion with the Character A/B thing, I changed it to Draco/Hermione, the way it should be- my mouse must have slipped... **_**_Well, I changed it back now so it should be set._**

**_Please overlook or help correct any non-British speech. I am sadly lacking in this field._**

**_Well, enough jabber, I'll give you the story now..._****}**

* * *

An ominous silence hung in the air, broken only by the occasional drip of the fetid, murky water that slipped through the cracks of the woebegone prison walls. The wind whistled eerily through the damp, dark corridors of the desolate place, and mysterious sounds echoed throughout the endless passageways, which made Draco, to his eternal chagrin, jump noticeably more than once.

A bloodcurdling scream pierced the silence for the mega parsec time, lancing through the cold, choking air in a sweep of agony, as Draco drew in his breath sharply, jerking forward in a jolted hop-jump. He tripped over a depressed area in the ground, falling face-first into a dirty puddle of black slime.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Draco cut him off abruptly with a fierce cold glare, pulling his face free off the murk, trying to comb the stuff out of his thin, white-blonde hair with his fingers. The unidentified offender made a sickening slurp as a few strands of hair parted company with his scalp in the extraction process, making him wince.

"I really don't want to know what that was." he muttered, rubbing the thick goop off on a rough, buckled wall with distaste as it gurgled against, instantly sticking to the wall, but remaining solidly attached to his hand. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he pulled away from the wall, tugging in futile humiliation. With a sharp jerk, Draco stumbled ungracefully on his back as he yelped in pain, the black tar-like substance peeling off some of his skin to reveal the sensitive flesh below as he bit his tongue in an effort not to scream. He got up quickly, managed to somewhat walk on in silence, head ducked in embarrassment and furious annoyance, clutching the back of his hand while trying to preserve what little dignity he had left.

Harry had to stifle a chuckle at Draco's unfortunate battle with an inanimate liquid, despite the aura of death that the nearby dementors radiated with a powerful deadliness. He mentally jotted it down for future reference, maybe for Malfunctioning Malfoy Episode 153.

_If I ever get back. _he thought, depressed mood unhelpfully enhanced by the flickering dementors. _As far as I know, I'm stuck here for the rest of my shortened life like Dudley is to his twenty-three presents.  
_

But still, it was a pretty hilarious moment. That is, from Harry's perspective.

The corridor veered to the left drastically, the slimy walls covered with same oily, viscous black murk oozing from a sickly-looking, moldy cheese colored bud, which shook slightly every few seconds or so, before spewing the disgusting substance. Several thin, scrawny flies buzzed around the pod, whirring around thick, fat, squirming maggots, which submerged themselves into the slime with a sickening squelch. The "petals", for lack of a better term, of the bud opened, bristling with tiny hook-teeth, shreeing loudly before swallowing an unfortunate maggot (which was now screaming in a high-pitched squeak) whole. The maggot's fat, stubby tail flicked back and forth wildly as the worm screamed again, squirming spasmodically, in its death throes, before a final shriek, cut off abruptly with a watery _squlrch. _The petals opened and gave a loud, satisfied belch, which made the entire hirsute vine's structure shake, before it rested, the bud opening halfway again, sinking into a half-sleeping, serene rest.

If Draco had thought that was the ultimate low for gross incivility, he certainly got a nasty shock when a dementor on guard glided over, stopped, regarded the odorous bud thoughtfully, reached out a skeletal hand, plucked it, popping it into its mouth. The goo made a hissing noise at it spluttered erratically like a popped balloon, the exact antonym of an appetizing apéritif. Despite its disgusting appearance, the wraith clearly enjoyed it, gnawing on the pod with unseen jaws as it made a sickly hissing noise.

Draco felt bile sour his mouth, trying to force his half-digested dinner back down his esophagus as he squeezed his eyes shut. He hoped that the mysterious monstrosity wasn't their daily hors d'oeuvre in Azkaban, because it certainly did not come close to hunger the appetite.

Beside him, Harry openly threw up all over the floor, the drab grey blocks of stone splattered with sick.

"Not helping." Draco muttered under his breath.

Harry was too busy regurgitating the contents of his digestive tract to reply as he bent over double, body shaking while he hurled.

Draco closed his eyes again, clenched his jaw, then lurched forward, imitating Harry's example if not better.

The only one that seemed completely unaffected was Hermione, who gawked at the... _thing_ with obvious amazement and even reverence, clutching Harry's arm in awe (who was still busy throwing up).

"The Slytherian Snorglaxoslime Spewer!" she gasped in respect and admiration. "Its coloration and fragrance makes it look appealing to flies in order to trap them using its alluring scent! Commonly found in the Amazon under raffesia plants, as well as other tropical regions, this was first discovered by an unknown Slytherin wizard during the Muggles's Vietnam War, loving dark, damp, and generally despondent places! It's also the only known food that dementors consume, besides souls- but that's a totally different theory, observed! I thought I would never had the honor of actually experiencing observing one firsthand!"

"I honestly don't need this 'honor'," Draco muttered between phases of regurgitation. "You're welcome to be my alternate."

Harry looked stunned, his expression obviously deliberate. "I never knew that Ron was actually paying attention during Herbology- Slytherins _do _have much to do with maggots." he breathed in mock awe.

Draco shot a glare at Harry. "Shut up, will you? The snarky commentary is my niche." he snapped, stepping around the, ahem, _stuff_ as it joined, bubbling and hissing malignantly, with the Snorglaxoslime, apparently having some sort of nasty chemical reaction.

"Umm.. Hermione?" Harry ventured cautiously, "the sick and the slime's starting to glow greenish like Ron's messed-up mixture in Potions...?"

Draco instinctively raised his arms to shield his face- not a moment too late. There was a roar of green light and blinding flash as Harry yelped in surprise, propelled backward by an invisible force. Two squelches followed his swiftly as the verdant glare died down, leaving a five-foot diameter hole in the ground, sizzling green-black goop dripping down from the edges, shivering in a gelatinous mess.

"Organic liquids, especially pumpkin juice, reacts with the Snorglaxoslime in a chemical reaction causing it to spontaneously become active." Hermione squeaked guiltily, struggling to her feet, a little too late with her ever-present helpful academic contribution.

Draco hissed in frustration as he shoved himself up onto his elbows, tendrils of slime making _glug _noises. His usually pristine white-blonde hair was clumped with the green-black stuff, the same murk covering his black robes, dripping with less than visually appealing runoff.

"You could have told us that earlier," he pointed out angrily, making a contemptuous face as he scraped the goo from his eyes distastefully. "Who drank pumpkin juice for dinner?"

Harry averted his eyes, shuffling his feet around awkwardly. "That might have been me," he admitted sheepishly. "Pumpkin juice is my favorite to drink."

Draco groaned, muttering curses and jinxes under his breath, his wand hand twitching.

* * *

A dim, flickering light spluttered in and out at the end of the bend as the light grew somewhat steadier as they rounded the corner. The dementors instinctively recoiled, but pressed on despite their dislike for the bluish, fluctuating lights. The torchlight illuminating a single cell, as Draco turned, starting in horror and shock.

There was a man kneeling in the cell, with slightly longer than shoulder-length, dirty wisps of hair falling in ragged strands, partly concealing his thin. bony face- a pale white-blonde color. Black cloth was draped loosely about his skeletal frame in tattered rags. A little ways away, a splintered fragment of wood, obviously a newer replacement wand, lied idly, green and red sparks occasionally erupting from the broken tip, spluttering out against the cold floor. The wand looked recently snapped- perhaps by the same hands that once wielded it. The dull glow of the guttering magic fire cast deep shadows across his averted face, making him look much older than he truly was.

"Father-" Draco croaked, grey eyes flickering as his surly, uncaring emotional brick wall faltered for a moment. Drawn slowly to the cell, he placed his hands on the slimy bars of the cell, hands shaking as the curled into tight fists, making to undo the lock with wandless magic, the incantation _Alohomora _already pounding in his mind to set his father free...

A shriek of rage tore through the cold, damp air as a cloaked wraith swooped forward, its icy lifeless fingers seizing Draco from around his throat. A sense of black nothingness engulfed the air as his head snapped back, choking on the thick, foul air. His vision blurred into frightening, half-formed delusions of a deranged mind, a lancing agony tearing up his side, the air filled with the reek of decay and death, his own voice screaming...

He hit the cold floor hard, wheezing for breath as he rolled into his side, first cough laced with blood as the dementors gave a final screech and tore away into the gloomy darkness. He struggled to his feet, clutching his side. A warm sensation spread over his finger as he gasped leaning against a Snorglaxoslime-free space on the wall, clenching his jaw in the still agonizing pain screamed from directly under his seventh rib. Removing his hand gingerly from his right side, he winced as the pain started up his body, ripping through his protesting nerves. The thin, pale fingers were covered with scarlet blood- his own, running down the black cloth of his robes, staining them a dark, almost black maroon.

As their escorting dementors hissed, stirring under their shadowed hoods, the unusual trio looked up helplessly, as Harry whispered, "Go on." Reluctantly, they sidled behind the dementors, Draco still pressing his hand over the oozing wound.

"Draco," Hermione squeaked timidly as he angled his head slightly to one side, showing that he was listening. She cast a furtive glance at Harry, and whispered, "The dementor literally stabbed its slimy fingers into your side."

Okay, he didn't need to know that.

Hermione stole a glance at Harry again nervously, before whispering, "I wonder if you're alright? It must hurt awfully, I'm so sorry-"

Draco stopped in his tracks abruptly as Hermione faltered in her step, whipping around to face her, the almost deranged fury in his cold, grey eyes making Hermione back away a few paces toward Harry.

"You're sorry, aren't you?" Draco snapped, irate, literally shaking with rage. "You're sorry? Honestly, you're _sorry? _That's the best you can do, isn't it? Of all the things you can say, you say you're _sorry! _How pathetic is that? Do you think being sorry will solve anything? Isn't that what all the hypocrites say before they worm out, leaving some useless sucker to rot alone? This is all for the publicity, isn't it? You _know _the Ministry of Magic will let you go, because to imprison an innocent young lady is _far too unacceptable, _so you can skip along and bawl to the editorials about your miserable experience of being set unfairly to Azkaban with the publicity paparazzi _dogging_ along at your heels! And it's certainly completely justifiable to leave _us _here to die, because it's _our _fault we tried to use Unforgivable Curses, and it has nothing to do with you while you sit pretty in the midst of it all!"

"Draco, I-" Hermione began in a quavering voice.

Draco actually snarled in a feral, inhuman fury, his free hand tightening into a fist, knuckles turning white from the strain he was forcing on them. "You know what, Hermione? Do me a favor and just shut up, alright? _Just shut_ _up_!"

Harry's brilliant green eyes narrowed for a split second before he rushed forward, yanking Draco toward him by his throat in a severe choke-hold, breaths hissing out between his teeth in rage.

"Look, I don't where you decided to pick up that attitude with her, but twenty Galleons it's your Death Eater dad," Harry hissed. "Or maybe it's narcissistic Narcissa, who always seems to that look like there's dung under her nose- or maybe that's from spending a minute too much time with you. I swear, if you-"

Draco tried to glare back, as best a person being essentially strangled, pawing vainly at Harry's vise-like grip in a confused manner as if uncertain as if to try to free himself or draw in what minimal oxygen he could squeeze through his constricted trachea. His lips were fading into a sickly bluish-grey shade as he began to choke and wheeze from asphyxiation, his struggling lessening in whatever feeble strength he had exerted before.

"_Stop it!_" Hermione screamed at Harry, running at him and grabbing the Gryffindor's shoulders as she began to shake him wildly. "_You're killing him!_"

Harry's eyes narrowed further as he tightened his grip, teeth clenched in anger. "Your point? He wouldn't hesitate to sink a knife into our backs if we don't beat him to the punch!"

"'Your point?'" Hermione shrieked in a rage. "_Your point? _Excuse me then, but you go about preaching about honor and chivalry and whatnot and now you're just going to act like a total _hypocrite! _If you're so lacking in compassion and self-control on the subject of _not _strangling people, including those with a high content of idiocy, what makes you not a murderer _like You-Know-Who?_"

"_Don't you ever compare me to Voldemort!" _Harry bellowed furiously, shaking Draco, who began to choke and wheeze violently. "He killed my parents! I _hate him! _I am _nothing like him!_"

"Then _act like it!_" Hermione screamed, conking Harry on the head several times for good measure. "For goodness gracious' sakes, you let Wormtail go, who betrayed your father to You-Know-Who! You showed mercy to so many people, and yet-"

Draco broke her off, managing to give a small species of scream, making a pitiful _Hey, I'm dying here! Do something!_ face.

"Oh, _shut up, _you intellectually inept idiot!" Hermione yelled, before diverting her attention back to Harry, tugging desperately at his iron grip. "Come_ along, _Harry! Don't lower yourself to _their _standard!"

Harry's eyes flickered with a fleeting hesitance, his resolve faltering as his grip loosened for a split second, but it was enough for Hermione to pull his arm loose, yelping as she staggered backwards from the momentum as she toppled down on her back.

Draco collapsed in a miserable heap at Harry's feet, gasping like a fish out of water as the color returned to his pale face, vaguely scratching at the floor as he shivered, drawing in heaving gulps of oxygen.

Hermione got to her feet primly, dusting her robes off as she regarded Draco with something he identified as unhappy regret.

"We have to work together in order to survive." she stated firmly. "And as much as I detest it, and believe me, I do quite passionately do so indeed, this includes the idiotic, cocky, vain and certainly morally inadequate Slytherin."

Draco glared up at her. "Thanks for the confidence point, Granger. The so-called _'idiotic, cocky, vain and certainly morally inadequate Slytherin' _has a name."

"You're quite welcome, Malfoy. Although, don't rely on my kindred benevolence in such situations. It is not shown on common occasion to such prejudiced and bigotry-inclined persons, only when my psyche is entertaining most delightful and optimistic feelings do I grant such generosity to the undeserving. Of course, this is strictly peremptory and is not open for discussion or negotiation." she sniffed, before turning on her heel and striding after the dementors.

"Quite the fastidious and meticulous terminology employer." Draco commented, getting off the ground and staring after the now quickly vanishing Gryffindor. He snorted in derisive annoyance. "Great, now she's got me doing it."

"Tell me about it," Harry agreed, before both wizards' eyes widened comically in surprise and almost instantly narrowed in suspicion, whirling around to face each other.

"Did we just... _agree...?_" Draco muttered cautiously, a pronounced scowl on his darkened face.

"I'm losing my edge." Harry growled, tilting his head to one side slowly.

They maintained the hostile staring contest for a full minute as Harry stalked off, casting fierce, intense _I'm watching you, so don't try anything or I will hex the heck out of you _stares over his shoulder.

"Likewise," Draco muttered as he followed sullenly behind, not exactly in a hurry to catch up.

* * *

The flames of the dim, guttering torches faded into a sickly greenish hue as the corridor swerved to the right, dipping gently into a stone staircase lit by glowing orbs of verdant light, shedding strange shadows which cast Draco's pointed features into sharp relief against his pale face. Blackness upon blackness slithered away, retreating as the mysterious, pulsing light, like a fluttering flock of bats diving apart, shreeing, fleeing the unearthly light.

A fleeting shadow darted forward the darkness as Draco yelped, leaping to the right as he swiped instinctively at the unknown offender with his foot. There was a sharp wail of pain and a shrill squeak as a dark grey rat the size of his forearm crept out from the darkness, whiskers quivering as it regarded him with beady eyes. Flicking its greyish pink tail to the side belligerently, it snarled at him, hackles rising, revealing lines of unusually long, serrated teeth.

Draco shuddered in disgust and slowly began backing away from the rat, his eyes flickering in uncertainty and (though he would never admit it) terror.

The rat held his gaze, hissed, and dove into the darkness again as it faded from sight, its tail streaming behind it, waving as if a challenge.

Draco hurried down the steps, making sure that the general vicinity of the next step was empty before gingerly placing a foot on it.

"Scared, Malfoy?" Harry whispered, hesitating so that he fell in step with Draco.

"Shut up," Draco snarled back.

"I take that as a yes," Harry noted, smirking, cocking his head to one side.

"Granger," Draco called down the staircase. "Hermione?"

The Gryffindor stopped in her tracks and angled her head upwards. "What could you possibly want now, Malfoy?"

"Tell him to shut up," Draco requested as politely as he could. "Please?"

Hermione sighed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Be quiet, Harry. Don't spread anymore dissent amongst us." Catching Draco's _You just got pwned _expression, she sniffed primly. "Get off your high horse, Malfoy. This also applies to certain Slytherins which totally and utterly lack a decent conscience."

"Enough with the morally inadequate synonyms," Draco hissed angrily, losing all the courtesy he had magically conjured up five seconds ago.

"Trying to describe the idiotic, cocky, vain and certainly morally inadequate Slytherin?" Harry called. "Besides those accurately truthful adjectives, you forgot heartless, cold-blooded, ruthless, snobby, vain, prideful, smart-alecky, over-ambitious, arrogant, immature, lacking any virtue, backstabbing, cowardly, prideful, idiotic, cruel, murderous, over-exaggerating, wimpy, weak, prejudiced, malicious, smug, and..." Harry blinked. "That's all I can think of for now, actually." He smiled angelically at Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, anything to add on your self-portrait in verbal description?"

"You're supposed to be quiet," Draco pointed out.

"Actually, I withdraw the mandatory silence on Harry!" Hermione called in a superior tone.

Harry's grin widened smugly. "I think you're mistaken. I'm much more certain it's vice versa."

"Oh dear, I'm still talking," Draco drawled sarcastically.

"Please kindly slap Malfoy for me, Harry, as I am sadly unable to now." Hermione said in a superior tone. After a brief second thought, she added, "Hard, on request."

"Glad to oblige," Harry said, sweeping a melodramatic bow as he whipped around swiftly, striking Draco across the face effectively as the latter yelped, recoiling as he held his hand pressed against his face.

"Ow, _yeesh_!" Draco shouted furiously, his pale skin now taking on a scarlet-tinged hue, which Harry ruled happily as five parts humiliation and two parts surprise. "Unnecessary!"

"Very necessary," Harry amended a little too happily. "Hey, it's on request. Personally, I would strangle you courtesy of a boa constrictor or shove you off the top of the Astronomy Tower or something. Or preferably both- strangle you first with the snake, then immediately throw you off and see how high and mighty you look on the way down. No, first turn you into a ferret and _then _strangle you with the snake, then- well, you know what I mean. Anyhow," his expression turned sorely insulted. "I'm offended. Very offended indeed. For all the joules of work I put into that magnificent strike you give me a pathetic little 'Ow, yeesh'? Truly, maybe I didn't hit you hard enough..."

Draco quickened his pace visibly, just in case Harry did happen to have a spare wand to perform Transfiguration with.

Harry grinned devilishly as he yelled, "Herm, my valiant attempt doesn't seem like enough! Want me to try again?"

"No, can you save the other one for me?" Hermione's voice drifted up from below.

"Alright then, but if you forget, I call doing the honors!" Harry called happily, running down the stairs with renewed energy.

Draco stalled for as long as he could before creeping down after them. "About the 'dissent amongst ourselves' bit," he muttered unhappily, recalling suddenly what he had said to Harry before the Triwizard Tournament two years ago.

_"'Why so tense, Potter? My father and I have a bet, you see. I don't think you're going to last fifteen minutes in this tournament. He disagrees. He thinks that you won't last _five_.'" (- Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire [Book 4])_

If he had thought Harry couldn't survive five minutes of the Tournament, he doubted he himself would last five seconds now.

* * *

Draco yelped as he was shoved abruptly to the ground, a sudden pain lancing through his neck as he lied there, raising his head slightly above the ground.

A dementor stared back with what Draco interpreted as an unseen leer before grasping an iron bar with its bony claw, giving a species of a delighted flourish, and slamming it shut into its threshold. No doubt the turbulent fear that rose in the form of bile in his throat was giving the dementor the most remarkable entree after its abhorrence-inducing amuse-bouche.

Annoyed at his completely helpless condition, he swept up a nearby rock and hurled it at the dementor in an insensible rush of vexation, which the dementor, recoiling at the impact of the projectile, did not seem to especially appreciate.

Draco lost count how many times he had screamed that day as the dementor snarled, its tattered robes flickering chaotically around it like a black maelstrom as its maw opened angrily, greedily sucking in the thick atmosphere. The world glowed in a flash of endless darkness, the mind of the insane, never ceasing in its downward fall...

The breath was knocked out of Draco as he landed abruptly flat on his back, gasping for breath as his vision gradually cleared back into the nondescript room. Hearing picking up faint traces of suppressed laughter, his next comment is wisely censored.

The dementor shook its head slightly as it glided away, seeming a lot less despondent, which isn't saying much.

"Real smooth, Malfoy." a particularly hateful voice whispered from the left wall of his sparsely furnished cell.

Draco clenched his teeth in disappointment. He honestly preferred Hermione's dull, intellectual lectures than Harry's short, stinging ones.

"I should have pitched myself off the Astronomy Tower when I had the chance," he muttered.

"I'll keep that in mind, Malfoy," a cheerful voice responded. "I can be of great assistance and would be more than happy to help end your misery with some innovative touches, you know. What will it be, black tulips or yellow roses?"

"That was supposed to be a hyperbole," Draco amended quickly.

"Alas, les destins sont si cruels. Vont-ils nous accorde pas un seul instant de bonheur dans leur jeu?" Harry sighed in a horrible accent.

"Um..." Draco said uncertainly. "Can you repeat that?"

Harry rolled his eyes, "Why can't you just flat-out say you couldn't understand that?"

"Because neither do you," Draco countered.

Harry paused on the other side of the wall.

"Okay, maybe not." he admitted sadly.

Draco was marking up quite a bit of points for himself here.

"Alas, the fates are so cruel. Will they not grant us a single moment of happiness in their game?" Hermione said suddenly.

"Okaaay..." Draco and Harry muttered at the same time. After a moment's pause, Harry added lamely, "That's nice, Hermione... are you sure the dementors aren't eating you alive, burning the entrails, and scattering the ashes to the wind?"

"Are you sure they aren't burning yours?" Draco asked innocently.

"Shut up, Slytherin." Harry grumbled, Draco adding yet another point for himself on his invisible blackboard (Three to none, he realized happily. But of course, he considered all of Harry's numerous scores in the past utterly void).

Hermione paused. "Isn't that what you said? _'Alas, les destins sont si cruels. Vont-ils nous accorde pas un seul instant de bonheur dans leur jeu?'_'Alas, the fates are so cruel. Will they not grant us a single moment of happiness in their game?' I didn't know you spoke French, Harry."

"I just overheard Fleur say it when Dumbledore was reading Cedric's eulogy." Harry confessed.

There was a disapproving silence from both sides.

"Hey, it works, okay?" Harry protested.

There was an unconvinced silence from both sides.

"You really shouldn't use languages you don't know." Draco pointed out very Hermione-ly.

"I agree wholeheartedly with Draco," Hermione sniffed.

Harry snorted angrily. "Draco? _Draco? _Okay, since when were you so buddy-buddy with the Malicious Malfoy? Honestly, Hermione, I thought you were just being polite with the dementor finger-stabbing thing, not that Malfoy deserves an iota of civility. _You_ should be the one wanting to kick his miserable little behind off the _roof _of the Astronomy Tower impossibly more than _me_, and that's saying quite a bit."

There was an embarrassed silence at both ends as Draco struggled unsuccessfully to conceal his reddening face.

"Be quiet, will you?" he snapped unconvincingly. _My endless gratitude to you, opaque wall. _he added in his mind.

There was, blissfully, no backhand retort.

It was too good to be true.

Draco's eyes narrowed in suspicion, turning his head slightly to the left before toppling onto his back in shock.

A brilliant green eye stared back at him through a crack into the rough wall, blinking in obvious surprise. "Malfoy, don't tell me my exaggeration isn't an exaggeration..." the eye (or rather, the mouth that the eye hopefully is connected indirectly to) warned protectively.

Draco immediately wiped all traces of emotion from his face, squashing his chaotic emotions down. "What, the filthy Mudblood? It's impossible for it not to be," he snarled, jabbing at Harry's eye with a nearby stick.

Harry yelped in pain as the offending eye disappeared, followed by another lapse.

"That was... _interesting_." Hermione managed slowly, each syllable pronounced distinctly as if she was picking her way through a swamp full of explosive hinkypunks, or, more appropriately for her specific personality, a one hundred question all-or-nothing Wizarding test.

An uncomfortable silence ensued.

"Somebody needs to break this awkwardness..." Harry muttered unhappily, shifting around skittishly.

A high-pitched shriek of pain pierced the air as Harry sat up, ready to fight, forgetting entirely that he lacked his trusty wand.

"Hermione!" he yelled. "Hermione, are you alright?"

"Hermione?" an indignant screech tore through the air. "_Hermione? _I just obtained a second-degree concussion! Humor me, for goodness gracious's sakes!"

Harry looked confused for a moment before he realized who had shrieked in that impossibly shrill voice.

He guffawed loudly (admittedly, _very _rudely) as he doubled over in gales of laughter, slapping the ground uncontrollably. "Whoa, Malfoy, you had me fooled a moment there! Honestly, I'll sign you up for soprano audition in the Hogwarts's Choir!" He proceeded adopted a horrible falsetto. "_Yes, thank you, thank you,_" he simpered in a scarily accurate impression of Umbridge as he wiped a nonexistent tear from his eye. "_I'm so honored to be chosen as Prima Donna Assoluta. I promise to make our premiere a complete fiasco with my utter idiocy!"_

Draco opened his mouth for a backhand retort, but his jaw abruptly cut short as he jerked back, hissing in pain.

_What the-?_

He attempted to open his mouth again as he rotated his jaw harder, shaking his head wildly as he struggled to complete this simple task, banging his head feverishly against the prison walls (not that it'd help any).

_Freaking-_ow!_-open-_ow!-_your_-ow!-_mouth_-ow!-_to_-ow!-_insult_-ow!-_Potter_-ow!-_how_-ow!-_hard_-ow!-_can_-ow!-_this_-ow!-_be__!_

"It's a miracle," Harry breathed in awe. "He actually shut up for once..."

Determined to continue his uncanny streak to never, _ever_ please Harry (_W__hat an atrocity! _He shuddered at the prospect of ever having to restart his current count), his eyes flicked to some ways away, spotting a nondescript, circular scrap of metal leaning innocently against the wall.

Right then, right that moment.

_Eureka._

It seems as though this negative-star hotel for (mostly) criminal witches and wizards does, in fact, serve Snorglaxoslime pods on a platter.

Draco's eyes widened comically for a fraction of a second before he (kind of) howled in disgust, slamming into the unforgiving wall behind him, tearing at his mouth with his now claw-like hands, head jerking from side to side as he vomited up whatever he had left in his digestive tract after his introduction to the courtesy-of-House-of-Slytherin specimen. The pathetic bit of bile, unfortunately, slammed into the webbing over his mouth and rocketed back down his throat as he doubled over, choking and writhing on the ground, still attempting to tear the stuff from his mouth.

The ugly truth hits people hard, doesn't it?

"Love this," Harry shouted happily to Hermione as he returned to his trusty crack. "The git's got a new look- flobberworm-possessed, I think,"

"Help him," came Hermione's sharp reply.

Harry positively deflated. "But-"

"Harry."

"I don't-"

"Harry."

"I couldn't possibly-"

"_Harry._"

"I can't think of-"

"_HARRY._"

"_HERMIONE LISTEN TO ME, WILL YOU?"_

"..."

"..."

"Hermione?"

"..."

"Hermione?!"

"..."

"_Hermione?!_"

"..."

"Hermione, you're ignoring me again, aren't you?"

"..."

"HERMIONE STOP IGNORING ME!"

"I'm not."

"Then what could you possibly be doing?!"

"Listening to you!"

"What the-"

"But not for long! Cough it up!"

Harry sighed- he had underestimated, again, Hermione's ability to backtalk. "As I was saying-"

"-Or rather not,"

"Hermione, you said you were listening to me!"

"This is merely retribution!"

"_Hermione!_"

"Well actually this is retribution for both you and Ron, but since he's not present I guess I just have to administer it all to you, I'll even this out later, so-"

"_HERMIONE I'M EXPLAINING NOW SO WOULD YOU PLEASE BE QUIET?!"_

"..."

Harry took this as a green light to continue. "As I was saying-"

"Or rather not,"

Harry hissed in frustration. "I APOLOGIZE FOR MY PAST INTERRUPTIONS."

"Thank you, that's what I was waiting to hear, please continue."

Harry's face had notably darkened as he sucked in his breath quickly. "As I was saying..."

"..."

"..."

"Are you not interrupting me?"

"Do you want me to?"

"_No!_"

"Alright then," Hermione responded genially.

"As I was saying, I have no ability to help him, as there is no way for me to get in his cell and vice versa, there's no way for me to reach through into his cell and vice versa, and we have no wands." Harry explained triumphantly, convinced he had finally won a battle of logic with Hermione.

"Summon Dobby," Hermione answered promptly.

Harry impossibly deflated further. "But why do I have to listen to you?!"

"Because I'll refuse to share my notes or correct your essays or give you answers or-"

"_Dobby?_" Harry yelped quickly.

Hermione smiled. Oh, the joys of being the only person able to retain her waking moments during History of Magic.

The familiar, brittle crack snapped the icy atmosphere as a small, rather wrinkled house-elf appeared at Harry's feet, bowing until the tip of his nose brushed the bedrock floor. "Dobby is here, Harry Potter, sir!" came the familiar, optimistic squeak. "How can Dobby help, sir?"

"Dobby," Harry sighed with the air of a martyr, "Could you please go over to Malfoy's cell and help him get that grey slime peeled off?"

Dobby seemed terrified at the notion of going near a member of his nightmarish past, but bowed nevertheless, trembling. "Dobby will do as Harry Potter asks, although Dobby is afraid, yes, Dobby does not want to go near the Malfoy boy, but Dobby understands that Harry Potter is sixteen, yes, Harry Potter maybe be caring toward the Malfoy boy, Dobby understands, Dobby will- Did Dobby say something wrong?" the elf bowed impossibly lower. "Dobby will not be nosy into Harry Potter's personal life if Harry Potter does not want him to, no Dobby will not!"

Draco's expression clearly reflected the horrified disgust of the now uncontrollably retching Harry.

"Dobby," Harry amended hastily, quickly recovering from his bout to try to clarify his motivations to the now wide-eyed free elf. "It's _Hermione_ who wants you to go over there, not me, I'm personally not that heartless, putting you through such torture, I wouldn't ever l-" At the traumatizing notion, he resumed his vomiting.

"Oh." Dobby murmured in a tiny voice. "In that case, Dobby will be going if Harry Potter does not wish that the Malfoy boy be helped," He gave a small, relieved smile and closed his eyes, preparing to Disapparate again.

"Wait!" Hermione called quickly. "Dobby, please do this favor for me, will you?"

The house-elf opened his eyes, blinking apologetically, his tiny frame racked by shivers. "Dobby really really_ really _does not want to," he whimpered softly.

"Oh _please, _Dobby? Just this once? For me?" Hermione implored in the sweetest voice she could ever possibly conjure up.

The martyr was frozen for a moment, contemplating his current dilemma before bowing again. "Dobby will do this terrible task for Miss Hermione, Dobby will, but only for Miss Hermione,"

There was another snap, muffled screeches, a ear-splitting scream, another crack, and a slightly disheveled Dobby sprang back into sight in Harry's cell. "Dobby has completed his task for Miss Hermione Granger, sir Harry Potter. Dobby will be going now?"

Harry forced a smile, knowing the blissful lack of hearing Draco's rather irritating voice had come to an end. "Thanks, Dobby."

"Yes, thank you, Dobby," Hermione chimed in brightly. "I won't forget all you've done."

Dobby, giving a sad, slightly traumatized smile, raised his hand in greeting before he vanished with a _pop!_

"That was tedious," Draco snarled, rubbing his now angrily flushed mouth, trying to fade it back to its regular pale.

"Oh shut up Malfoy and be grateful for once," Hermione snapped, her former sweetness completely souring as she frowned disapprovingly, raising her eyebrows like she always did when she was reprimanding Ron for chatting animatedly with Harry during Charms practice. "In case you haven't noticed, I have _oh so generously_ restored your ability to communicate verbally,"

"And impossibly further our desperation to strangle you and pitch you off the Astronomy Tower," Harry added, purposely neglecting to lower his voice.

"Well if you're doing badmouthing me," Draco hissed. "I've got an idea."

"Does it involve you talking?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Well," Draco said carefully. "I do have to explain it,"

Harry slammed the ground with formidable force as both Hermione and Draco, yelping, jumped in fright. "_VETOED!_" he roared furiously. "_NEXT!_"

"Harry!" Hermione scolded immediately. "Oh, grow _up!_ I'm not thrilled at the idea of enduring through his horrible voice-"

"I don't have a horrible voice!" Draco protested angrily.

"Oh yes you do Malfoy!" Hermione cut in as she barreled on in her tirade. "But you haven't got anything either, Harry, so you should really try your best not to strangle him-"

"'Try_ not to strangle him_'?!" Draco yelped.

"WILL YOU SHUT UP MALFOY As I was saying, try not to strangle him and listen to what he has to say because if might actually free us although it is doubtful that it actually will due to his deficient IQ-"

"'_Deficient IQ?!'_"_  
_

"HOW MANY TIMES TO I HAVE TO TELL YOU, _SHUT UP MALFOY_, to his, yes, _deficient IQ_, but it's not like we have anything to lose!" Hermione finished, breathing heavily.

"..."

"..."

"Wow." Harry noted.

"'Wow?'" Hermione echoed in confusion, adding the finger quotes.

"Yes, 'wow'." Harry said patiently, mirroring her quotation marks. "That was a lot shorter than I expected."

"Oh _please_ do be quiet, Harry, and let him speak."

Harry braced himself, covering his head with his hands, crouched on the floor earthquake drill-style, waiting for _the voice_.

Draco, on the other hand, waited patiently for the inevitable interruption.

"..."

Relieved that they were actually listening to him, he composed himself, starting. "So-"

"_OH MY GAWSH IT HURTS SO BAD IT'S KILLING MY HEARINGGGGG_!" Harry shrieked, flailing on the prison floor.

_"Ha-RRY!" _a surprisingly McGonagall-like voice barked.

"Alright... I'm sorry... I just _had _to do that, you get it? Some sort of impulse,"

"..."

"Continue, please." Harry motioned him on despite knowing Draco couldn't see him, grinning sheepishly.

"So," Draco repeated again, shielding himself and covering his eyes.

No explosions?

No screaming?

Wow.

So far, so good.

Encouraged but still understandably wary, he slowly returned his hands to his side. "Back when Potter threw up and the slime practically blew a hole in the floor? I was thinking, maybe if he threw up on the pod..."

"I'm don't have bulimia nervosa, Malfoy, I can't throw up at will," Harry pointed out.

"Well maybe if you prefer it I can keep talking and you can keep on listening to my so-called '_horrible voice_'-"

Harry gulped, and subsequently knelt over the complementary maggot-infested pod that he, too, had received from the dementors, proceeding to attempt to hurl on it.

Draco smiled, leaning back. Having such an annoying voice wasn't as terrible as he'd thought it would be. "Protect yourself," he called. "After all, it does explode rather violently,"

Harry suddenly snapped his head up. "Wait, explode?! _It's going to explode in my face?!_"

Draco shrugged. "Not really, it's got to have a little time for the reaction to take place, so in theory, if you move fast enough, you should be able to get away during that grace period."

"'_In theory_'?!" Harry yelped.

"Yes, '_in theory_'!" Draco snapped. "This is a time for improvisation! Now throw up on that pod, will you!"

"Doesn't this carry, say, a potential health hazard?!" Harry insisted, unconvinced.

"Exactly, that's why I picked you to do it!" Draco yelled, thoroughly annoyed.

"_I REFUSE!_" Harry bellowed as Draco and Hermione both jumped again, cringing.

"Then," Draco reasoned with infuriating logic, having prepared for this inevitable refusal. "We can just rot here and die without any hope and allow Voldemort to win and what would _Ginevra Weasley _think, giving up, _abandoning_ her like that, what if she decided to _date __another boy_-?"

"Alright, _alright_!" Harry screamed, his resolve shattering into nothingness from the Ginny commentary, "I'll risk it, just give me a mo-"

Draco marked up another point on his insubstantial chalkboard, retreating to the farthest corner, waiting for the explosion.

He was not disappointed in any way.

_**{So I decided to wrap up this chapter quick, because it's been, like, half a year since the last update. :P So... I hope you enjoyed. I will try to be more active on this, please give it a second chance and I'm sorry for the delay.**_

_**Typing next chapter right now. You know the drill, review and follow! Thank you!}**_


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